Luto Esperanza
Luto Esperanza is the ex Septimo Espada & goes by the alias "The Drunken God" for his neverending intoxication. However, this intoxication is not at all obvious. Appearance Luto's black hair goes a little past the center of his neck. His hair in the back forms into an arrow type shape, pointing downwards. The center lock of hair in the back is the longest and reaches down to his shoulders, the rest get shorter and shorter until the hair in the back on each side are just below his jaw. His bangs split right down the center of his scalp, half on the left, and the other on the right. The length of his bangs are about down to the center of his nose. The bangs cover half of each eye. The color is pure black, darker than night. His hair could blend in with a pitch black night. The main attraction of Luto's eyes are his vibrant green irises. These irises conceal the majority of the whites of his eyes, the rest being covered by his dark bangs. The irisises are like a supernova mid-implosion, creating spikes that look like they are protruding from his pupil. From which the spikes begin, Luto's pupil is extremely small. The size of his pupil could be measured to be about a single millimeter. The dark green of his irises is somber enough to make one calm down and become drowzy simply by gazing at them. Luto's hollow hole is located where his navel should be to symbolize his alcoholism. His espada tattoo is located on his left pectoral. Lastly, his mask fragment is in the shape of a lion's jaw, fangs and all, along his left jaw. Personality Luto's personality is almost completely consisting of his easy-going nature. Much like many arrancar, his goal is not to become stronger and stronger, reasons to be explained will show why this is. However, his goal is to follow the paths of life and attempt to live it up and be as happy as possible. This easy-going nature consists of typical colloquialisms such as ending sentences in "man" and saying things such as "chill" & "dude". However, Luto's goal may have used to be to become stronger and stronger. To be stronger than everyone else, most arrancar's goal. However, Luto has a slight God complex... It rarely comes up in normal conversation and when it does it is in passing and is usually disregarded by most people. But this proves to affect his goal in afterlife since he already believes he is much stronger and more worthy than everyone else. One might think he is not accepting of his rank of anything but the top, but to him, rank is a simply a creation. He could care less what someone else thinks of him. His stubbornness leads him to believe he is the mightiness no matter what anyone else says. The most obvious aspect of his personality is his drug intake. He's not "The Drunken God" for no reason. Luto takes in massive amount of alcohol among other drugs. Of course, he has taken so much that this intoxication has become so minute, he is a massive heavyweight. He has tried every drug out there, but prefers the classics: alcohol, marijuana, tobacco, & cocaine. History Luto grew up as a small Irish boy with the same black hair and piercing green eyes by the name of Blake Hughes. He lived just outside a big city in Ireland on his family farm with his mom and sister. His father dies of liver failure when Blake was 6 so by the time Blake was 12 he felt the need to help support the family. The family needed excess support as well due to the rapid urbanization and industrialization of the nearby cities. The cities started to encroach onto their farmland, and the money required for this expansion grew and grew. The tax collectors continued to bother their poor farm family. So to help his family, Blake, when he left to pick up non-farmhouse supplies at the city, began stealing from the nearby shopes. Blake was teh perfect thief, never caught, but held up a reputation. He stole for weeks upon months upon years. However, one day, when Blake was 16 years old (well into his adult years for that time) he got caught stealing from a factory for their coal. His face was covered in the black smog of the deathly factorites with a bag of coal in hand. A security guard held a gun to him Blake no idea what to do, he had never been caught... Blake's and the security guard's eyes trembled, one might need to harm a young man, and Blake was in deep trouble. The security guard warned Blake, but mid-sentence, Blake panicked and quickly maneuvered the gun out of the security guard's hands and in the heat of the moment... shot the man right in the stomach. Blake fled. Blake ran and ran and ran until he reached the Irish coastline, surviving off the meat of the land and the gun he stole from the security guard, which was almost out of ammo, he reserved the ammo well. Blake stowed away on a boat to America, a boat that handled the international trade of the horrid meat-packing in the factories of New England. For years, Blake traveled into America, now 21. No one helped him, he didn't have any identification, he was a vagrant. He ran from cops, continued stealing for himself, wondering how his family was doing. His family, since he has spent 5 years away from them, was starting to become lost thoughts in the constant thievery, alcohol, and city-skipping. Blake did not look like the average Irish boy, he did not have any freckles, his eyes were neither blue nor brown, and his hair was as dark as charcoal. In fact, he looked quite Italian. This is why, when he reached Chicago, the outfit picked him up off of the streets and into their care. His thievery skills got him far in the outfit. Blake had gotten far, despite his non-Italian heritage; he kept it secret. He was high ranked, a Consigliere at the age of 34. His nights went from roaming and thieving, sitting outside in the cold huddling up to a bonfire or occasionally sleeping with one eye open in a stranger's home to nights of debauchery. He spent nights & mornings just sleeping with pretty ladies, snorting godly powder, smoking fat cigars & blunts, and drowning himself in fire water. The constant debauchery, his high role in the outfit, and all of the events leading up to his point made him completely forget about his family. He held very little dear to him other than himself. His power and pull in the Outfit had gotten to his head. He ordered around gangsters, but one day, he sat in on a meeting with one of the punks and one of the higher-ups. Blake got cocky... pulled out two guns. Shot the punk, but before he could even fire the gun at the big guy, the higher-up was faster. Of course... he was higher up, a little better than Blake. Blake died at 34, blood on the walls, next to the punk he shot. His actions were misguided by haughtiness and drug-fueled ambition. Abilities WIP